Autumn trees

  Go to the nearby Daqingshan and see the long-lost autumn trees.
  When summer comes, the weather here is surging, the weather is violent, and the trees are mighty, shouting in the wind. If I go again today, everything becomes open and quiet, with distinct colors. In addition to thick pine needles, pine cones, and bird droppings on the ground, there are more rustling leaves on the ground. A handsome magpie leaped forward on the soft fallen leaves. Sunlight sheds down through the clear branches, and a small white feather on the forehead of a magpie, like a dazzling gem, gleams in the cool autumn wind.
  The dead trees in the summer were chopped down on the spot to make wooden benches, lying on the wet ground, and the part buried in the soil was still nostalgic for the earth. When people are tired, sitting on a tree trunk and squinting in the sun for a while, they will feel that all the worldly troubles are like the noise of cars and horses in the downtown, filtered by layers of jungle, and then disappeared. There was only human breathing in the air, trembling slightly. The aroma of black pine, white birch and poplar slowly overflowed from the fallen bark, and the entire jungle was infiltrated like a stream.
  The Daqingshan at this time was bleak and lonely, bright and quiet. The world became open and sparse, as if the mountains had receded several kilometers, the trees disappeared, the earth was unobstructed, and only the thatch was swaying freely under the deep blue sky. Because of their light posture, the barren mountains in front of them also added a bit of excitement. There were no obstacles on the ground, and the autumn wind swept everything clean, so that people could hear the echo from the opposite mountain with a slight cough. The light sounds of birds penetrated the mountains and reached the ears of people. I saw three or five magpies looking for grass seeds on the hillside. Their little heads kept beating among the withered autumn grass. The wind blew, and the sunset sprinkled on the tip of the grass, the crimson wild fruits, the falling leaves, and the shadows of the pine trees also jumped.

  An old man rides three wheels with his grandson to climb the mountain. He was a little confused, and when he saw me saying hello, he pointed to his ear guiltily. So we smiled and nodded to each other. They had already gone far, and I heard the little boy talking loudly to the old man. The sound was like a bird’s song that occasionally rang in the mountains, passing over the treetops, and then disappearing into the gorgeous sunset.
  Everything is illuminated by the last light. The pine needles seem to be in heaven, and each one is painted bright gold. The white poplar trunk is full of eyes, and the setting sun passes through the trees and falls into these god-like eyes that penetrate the world. The soul of every white poplar is in the light that is about to disappear, holding your breath and shaking with anxiety.
  When the sunset disappears, everything is shrouded in twilight. The moon, as soft and light as a baby’s eyelashes, is slowly rising from the horizon. I have never seen such a dreamy moon, it just wanders in the cold night sky, and all the noise encounters this holy moonlight, and it is silent for an instant.
  On the return journey, at a crossroads, I saw countless fallen aspen leaves, chasing the speeding wheels, as if they were chasing the departing autumn, as if they were dancing endlessly on the bright and grand stage. In this way, they played a magnificent symphony endlessly and mightily at a crossroad that mankind is accustomed to.
  They are the elves of this world. The friend looked at this light butterfly-like army, and said calmly.